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That’s my twin brother, ladies and gentlemen. He pulls no punches in telling me how bad I am compared to his otherworldly talent.
It doesn’t matter how much my world-renowned artist mum and the professors have liked my work. It doesn’t matter how many awards I get for my technically superior nature scenes.
Lan has never liked any of them. Not even one.
“It’s just a fluke,” I mutter, fighting my emotions as I step to the canvas, wanting to bring it down and hide everything it represents.
For some reason, I feel completely raw and naked in front of him. Like that night he hugged me for the last time.
My brother clutches me by the shoulder and spins me around so that we’re both looking at the chaos of red and yellow. The fiery explosion my fingers made in translation of the chaos brewing in my mind.
“If that’s a fluke, do it all the time, Bran. Seriously, this is your best work in alongtime.” He squeezes my shoulder. “I told you everything would get better if you stopped shackling yourself.”
I tense.
No. I amstillshackling myself. I can’t stop doing that.
I’m in control.
Control.
Control.
Control.
He turns me around to face him as I’m about to lose my fucking shit and spiral down that nasty road.
His eyes are narrowed. “Please tell me this isn’t because you got back with Clara.”
“What does she have to do with it…?” Sometimes I forget we’re together. I keep making up all sorts of excuses to not meet at night—or even during the day—and send her designer bags and shoes as compensation.
“She’s flaunting you all over her IG like an attention whore.”
“Lan! That’s so rude.”
“Well, she is. A gold digger, too.” He frowns. “For the life of me, I can’t understand why the hell you keep going back to the bitch. She cheated on you, multiple times, and she’s so toxic, it makes drugs look like unicorn rainbows.”
“Very rich coming from the toxicity king.”
He huffs. “Classic Bran move.”
“What?”
“Always deflect, little bro. Run, hide, and change the subject whenever it hits too close to home. That’s working bloody wonders for you.”
I force a smile. “If you’re done, kindly get out.”
“Lose her, Bran. I mean it. If the bitch hurts you one more time, I’ll take things into my own hands and we both know how that will end.”
And then he steps out of the studio.
I continue watching the door long after he’s gone.
His words sounded like he cared, or like he was doing it for me, but no. Lan has always seen me as an extension of himself, so the reason he’d take revenge against Clara isn’t for me. It’s forhim, so he won’t look weak.
My eyes land on the canvas and I groan. I’m so glad Lan didn’t see a certain silhouette. But I do.
Clearly.
